Shadowed Ignorance
by diagnosedodd
Summary: Terril Mahariel has had limited contact with the people that her clan calls the "shemlem". She is forced into a world completely devoid of the culture she knows and ruled by people she has yet to understand. Her ability to trust others allows for plenty of allies to gather, but do they really deserve this trust? Soon to be f!mahariel/leliana
1. Chapter 1

Terill looked over absently to the bedroll placed strategically out of direct site of her own. Duncan told her the dangers of traveling in such a small group without the ability to have a guard. He put her at such and angle that perhaps whatever attackers would not immediately notice her. Her own naivety trusted in these words, thinking to herself, previously shielded by the pure numbers of Dalish, invisible to the immediate danger of Darkspawn and the impending blight. As if her own ability to remain quite while a horde slaughtered her companion would save her. She knew the stupidity of this concept, but she would not face the alternative.

She had never been a coward; she had faced death many times and held many extended hunting expeditions. These Darkspawn and their master was not a bear or a wolf she could easily outwit and she knew climbing a tree, if her own safety called for, she would not survive.

That dark whisper that has pulled at the back of her skull since the day Tamlen disappeared threatens to overwhelm her own senses. She has been told to fear Shemlem, hate them, and perhaps the sheer lack of contact should have led her to fear them. Alas, she had no such sense. Duncan appeared to be none of these personifications of evil or greed that she was told Shemlem to be. She had few interactions with some of his kind, always under the watchful gaze of fellow Dalish who had grown to hate these people. She had no such predilection.

She feared her own naivety would be her downfall as Tamlen had warned her. She had heard such awful things, such tales of hardship, slavery, and war, but yet, she remained a wide-eyed witness to the traveling bands of men and women that walked the forest too close to her camp but not close enough to be threatening. They seemed so similar. Their faces perhaps more round, their ears without a point, their faces free of the tattoos of her own clan, but yet they appeared, all in all, to be so very similar. She had seen them laugh as her clan did, share in the same talk around their own campfire, perhaps without the same weary looks and without the knowledge that they could so easily be overtaken by the people currently watching their every move.

She had learned her own discretion from these encounter, how to remain hidden, and if need be, how to kill without being seen. She shuddered at the thought of the band deemed too dangerous to give warning. There were women and men present, and though she understood the keepers concern about these armed people, her stomach turned at the sight of their blood. She did not know these people, and although her clansmen seemed to revel in the destruction they wrought, it brought her nightmares soon after.

She shook her head at her idiocy. Her friends would have boxed her ear had they heard such foolishness. She still looked over at the bedroll, holding the senior grey-warden, fairly aware he had the ability to destroy her and her whole clan had he the inclination. She had spoken to him briefly but he had been much more willing to watch than to share, fairly sure he was looking over her as she did him. He never let out a whimper, snore, or shuffle you would expect of someone whom slept so little. She was not certain he ever slept as each time she got up to walk the perimeter; he was very much awake even if she thought him asleep.

She kept her eyes open as long as she could, fearing delusions of her past friend would haunt her as they did before. She closed her eyes slowly, pleading to her gods to take her from this uncertain existence or allow her the rest she so desperately needed after these past few days. Whatever had kept her dreams plagued recently spared her this one night.

Alistair looked at the initiate he had been charged to lead. He hated the idea of camping in such uncertain territory with the blight looming so close by. He knew he would not sleep the night with the knowledge that he may be leading these three into their demise without their express knowledge. He knew the secrets of the Grey wardens was kept for very specific reasons but the thoughts still caused him pain from his own joining. He was not certain what made a person able to withstand the taint or if the maker had given him this ability as some form of a joke.

He looked across the coals of the fire at the three maybe-wardens and pitied their earnest. The two men, one with a family, could so easily perish in a day's time and yet he could not warn them out of the pure necessity of their being. The Dalish woman stirred in her sleep, having seemed oddly on edge (at least more so than expected) this past afternoon. He recognized the bloodlust in her eyes as she took down the Darkspawn they encountered. This look perplexed him as the two humans almost turned in fear, she unsheathed her daggers, all too ready to behead her foes. She moved so easily in her leather armor, not carrying the weight that her three companions had and felled several Darkspawn before Jory and Daveth were able to clean out their undergarments. He had felt the same fear that the men displayed and was more than surprised when Terill swung her dagger across the first glenlocks jugular (at least he assumed it to be called that, Grey Wardens hardly tarried on Darkspawn anatomy). The resistance her dagger felt thought the flesh of her first mark did not slow her to her next as she spun to face her next attacker. There was a gracefulness in the rouge that may have been from her upbringing or her own superior combat-skills and well as the courage she showed even when outnumbered.

After this display of aggression, he had expected her to be abrasive, perhaps apathetic to their plight due to her perception of humans but he found no such attitude. She had been kind since her first few chuckles as he seemed to threaten to agitated mage before their adventure, but he still expected her mien to somehow change with this Darkspawn encounter. Even so, she did not change, she still appeared to be an earnest listener, even smiling at Ser Jory's boasts of grandeur where he himself felt the need to gag. She shoved Daveth jokingly as she mimicked the cowardly look he held at the first sight of their attackers, and shoved him playfully when he defended himself EXTREMELY poorly. She had made comment about Shemlem, but not directed at him and their companions and in such a way it did not seem bitter or accusatory.

She was present for their conversations but distant in such a way that perplexed him. He had met elves and even a few Dalish whom did not share these traits. He knew Duncan had traveled for some time with the young elf to Ostagar and though he had dropped hints of a slightly troubled past, the issue of her own distance had not been brought up.

She stayed up, cleaning the armor of the darkspawn blood that now covered all of them. She seemed to wipe over the same spot, even having cleaned it thoroughly, in a thoughtful manner. He did not know what to make of the expression she now wore. She seemed so… Lifeless? That was hardly the word as you could see in her eyes the fire that would present itself with her next foes but all the same, it worried him in another way that confused him.

He did not wish death on any of his companions, knowing them all to be brave-fighters and good people. He had known them for less than twelve hours but he still felt himself identifying with all of them. He feared the joining and the weeks to follow although he knew his own ability to survive.

Blights meant death, broken families, felled heroes, lost cities, and ultimately, he knew not all of them would survive even through to the next evening.

He laid his head down, taking note of the pained expression of the Dalish woman's face as she was caught in her own thoughts. He soon found sleep, but even that did not lull his worries.

The morning had greeted her companions with darkspawn, annoying amounts of mud, and a witch who seemed too eager to help. She was used to living among the trees but her clan traveled far from these marshlands and she found herself suddenly uncomfortable with the amount of dried mud on the bottom of her boots. Daveth whispered something under his breath about the potentially unsavory end they could all meet if morgan suddenly changed her mind about helping them leave and she shoved him hard, but playfully.

She had not yet seen the sort of treatment expected from the shemlem, save for the lone quartermaster who was soon put in his own place. They seemed unconnected; less concerned about each other than her and her clansmen but not in such a way it seemed completely unnatural. Daveth had proven to be a fine traveling companion, willing to entertain the group with jokes upon the way, even at his own expense if there was need and Alistair was amazingly optimistic upon all their encounters. She even found herself mildly fond of Jory, and although his cowardice in the midst of his boasting seemed odd, he proved enough material for her group to laugh at their seemingly odd situation.

Morgain led them close enough to the outpost for them to find their way and bid them goodbye with an amazing amount of distaste, finding her leave as soon as they found their bearings. Alistair led the way back to the gate, "Well that was… Fun." He said, rolling his eyes.

"None of you are yet a toad, and I believe your flirtations with the witch of the wilds can yet wait." Terril said, letting a smirk spread across her face. "Let us see Duncan before he fears us all dead." She pushes past Alistair, jogging toward the camp, looking back at Jory's and Daveth's amusement.

Alistair appears to wrack his brain for a comeback that would sufficiently deflect her accusations but sighs in defeat as he catches up. "In such a hurry Terril? I would have thought you to be more at home in these woods than in a human outpost." He says, looking over her for a reaction, hoping his statement to not offend.

She smiles at him, "Woods or no, I cannot rightly let you all be eaten by bears due to your own shemlem stupidity, now can I?"

Jory sputters, ready to make some offensive statement about the Dalish before Daveth's glare puts his worries to his own life rather than the argument. Alistar notices the exchange and tenses for whatever racial war he may have to break up if Daveth allowed the statement to be said. Terril shoot an amazingly impish smile at Jory, recognizing the pause. The smile could, to some, seem out of fellowship, allowing him to know he could say what he wanted without harm. To the wise however, the smile seemed to be a dare to the cowardly knight.

Before Jory could spread whatever hatred for the Dalish he had been taught, they were at the gates of Ostagar, being let in by an extremely wary guard who seemed amazed they came back alive, and sane in fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Terill awoke from her haunted slumber to the realization that her two shemlem companions were no more. She felt almost guilty for their passing, and for this, felt even more guilty. She was meant to hate or fear these men because of what they were and what their people had done before but she was never able to force these emotions. She had tried that harrowed and bitter Dalish perspective that her clansmen so adamantly stuck to but it just never stuck. She knew she was naïve. She was probably scum to at least one of the men but it did not make their deaths any less painful to bear.

Her gaze groggily focused on the roof of a tent she did not recognize. She sighed heavily. She certainly did not fear death nor sought it actively but the prospect of romantically perishing in attempts to fix a world that rejected her seemed so romantic, no? Even Merrill told her she was mad, and that coming from the enigmatic first was interesting to say the least. She mulled this thought in her head. She liked existing certainly, but was it for the sake of existing or something else?

Rustling form somewhere nearby made her bolt up in alarm. Even in the midst of the first blight in centuries she was wasting her time on silly dalliances that matter to no one but herself. Alistair poked his head through the flaps of the tent sheepishly, flashing her a smile and chuffing in relief that she was awake.

"Thank goodness!" He exclaimed, certainly louder than he needed. "I was worried." His face contorts in uncertainty. "I have not yet been to any joinings… Well, save for my own. I was not certain how long it would take for you to awake."

She looked over his face, seemingly wracked for worry of an elf he did not know. She made a quick note to play cards against Alistair whenever the chance, he was certainly the easiest read of anyone she had met. She shook herself of the bedroll and quickly crawled from the tent, almost pushing Alistair over in her urgency. She brushed off imaginary particles of dust from her leather armor and ruffled her blonde mane that had become matted with the moisture and mud of the Kokiri Wilds. "How long was I out?" she asked with little affect. Apparently the _great_ battle had deemed her worthy enough to wait for her nap to be over.

"Hmmmm…." He answered not certain, looking to the midday sun, "A few hours at most, Duncan is meeting with Calian at the moment and has left me to be your keeper, and if need be, nursemaid. Your coloring is good, not that I could say the same soon after my joining… Let us just leave it at your body definitely took the taint easier than mine did." She nodded her head, not wanting to tell him that she was tainted a few weeks prior.

She worked her hair into a manageable bun; certainly not ascetically appealing but far enough from her face it would not blind her if caked with blood. "Duncan must be waiting for us then?" she asked, certainly ready to leave the thoughts of Daveth's last moments and Jory's cowardly death from her mind.

Alistair shifted from foot to foot, seeming to be slightly less excited about joining the meeting between Duncan and the king, but nodding in affirmation. "He told me to bring you if you were able… Are you able?" He raised his eyebrow with more scrutiny than she liked.

"Alistair," said stoically, attempting to suppress an annoyed sigh in the process, "Let us be off then." She touched his back lightly and motioned for him to lead the way. He took the cue and led her towards the tent.

Again, she is cheated the chance to romantically die fighting for a cause that means little to her people. She notes the thatched roof and curses under her breath slightly; hoping waking in strange places would not become a habit of hers, and if it was to become one, at least bring with it a funny drunken story.

Ostagar has surely fallen. The light went up but the retreat was still made leaving the King, Wardens, and many men to perish in a slaughter not fit for dogs. More men, fallen to a cause that none were sure could be won. She wished she had the confidence the late king did about the blights eventual defeat and this appeared the one area her realism trumped her natural naivety. It was certainly discouraging to consider the bleakness of her existence at the moment.

She then noticed she did not even know if she did still _exist_. She wriggled her toes, no longer bound in the straps of her Dalish boots and brought herself into a sitting position, looking across her already badly scarred arms. _No fresh scars, that is a first_.

The door opened to reveal a scantily clad woman, that despite the circumstances, still made Terill blush. "I see you are awake. Mother will wish to speak with you and your companion." Morrigan says, seeming almost apathetic that Terill lasted the night.

"Alistair lives?" Terill asks, happier than she thought she would be at the goofy-wardens ability to skirt death.

"He does." She nods, "He would certainly like to know you are awake and well. He has been almost inconsolable since mother saved you from the tower."

Terill flinched, perhaps now realizing exactly who she owed her life to and what that may mean in the future. Perhaps spending time with the Shemlem managed to make her cynical but she knew Flemeth would collect on this debt one way or another. She hoped that she would be able to keep her life for it in the least; it was certainly possible she wouldn't, but she hoped.

Terill suddenly realized that not only did she and Alistair live, but Duncan must not. Terill's heart broke at the thought of Alistair's first realization that his friend and commander was dead, and to such a betrayal at that. Alistair, for all purposes, appeared to be the embodiment of what did not make her hate the Shems as her people did, his curious eyes, earnest smile, and ability to admit fault even where it was not his own. He seemed and honorable man, and even though she knew little of the extent of Alistair's relationship with Duncan, she recognized the admiration in his eyes to know he lost a good friend.

Terill did not wish to speak to the witch in front of her, much less the one waiting outside but she knew she must. She waved Morrigan to go ahead of her, giving her a few minutes to refasten her now tattered armor over to tunic. She certainly felt sore, but not in the way that one would expect when you must have experienced mortal wounds days earlier. She ran her thin fingers over an odd shaped bruise on her leg that seemed to span her whole leg. It was peculiar. She had been magically healed on few occasions by the keeper, once during a hunting accident, and the last after her contact with the mirror. The Keeper refused to heal her broken arm as a child, maintaining she needed to learn her lesson for climbing trees in a storm. She still remembers the chuckles of the Keeper and her clansmen as she pouted continuously for the few weeks her arm took to heal. Some claim she learned to even pout in her sleep.

Terill finished fastening the last of the armor and tested the sturdiness of her legs, being pleasantly surprised that she could walk easily. She walked out of the house, fully prepared to be told to become some sort of elven sacrifice for Flemeth's help. Really, it seemed counter-intuitive to save the wardens and then kill them after wasting so much magic but Terill hardly understood the motivations behind anything nearly anyone did really.

Morrigan groaned loudly again, seeming to egg Alistair to say something to start a fight. Alistair surprisingly did not take the bait and continued to walk, his eyes becoming extremely intent upon the men standing further upon the road. Terill noticed them as well, standing in front of what appeared to be an overturned caravan. _Bandits. For the love of the creators._

Terill checked her sides for her sheathed daggers and was glad to find them where she last left them. She had been known to lose her daggers on occasion, flashing back to the memory of finding one within the knot of a tree a few yards from camp. It took nearly an hour to free the steadfast blade, and after all the sweat and cursing, she never did understand how it ended up there.

The men made no attempt to lunge or reach for their weapons as the three approached. _Smart for bandits._ There was little chance the refuges passing through the area appeared as formidable or as armed as Terill and her companions so perhaps the men knew enough to let them through. Unfortunately for them they were not.

The two men in the front made up a bogus story about paving the roads that made Morrigan snort from behind. "You two are _certainly_ the most capable of highwaymen I have yet to encounter." Morrigan let her sarcasm linger on every word before correcting herself, "Or perhaps I was thinking of the last two left alive." She brought her finger to her chin to attempt to look thoughtful.

Alistair piped up, "Let's just kill them already. I can hardly listen to you belittle every person before we behead them… You would think it is bad enough how much you seem to enjoy lighting the large ones aflame" Alistair shuddered at the thought.

Terill nodded and unsheathed her daggers slowly, giving the men one last chance to relent. She wasn't sure she would have let them live even had they surrendered. She hated bandits, hated the way they preyed on the weak, and hated the way they acted as if every forest was their own. Luckily for her, they too unsheathe their weapons. Terill arched her back as the leader swung at her, not considering she would be considerably more agile and quick than he. Before he could finish the follow through and balance himself, she flicked her dagger across his neck, drawing a jagged line that was more brutal than need be but shallow enough to not kill him in moments. What could she say, she really hated bandits. The man looked to face her again, losing blood quickly and making another sluggish move to catch Terill in the arm. Again, his attempts failed and she moved away from the dying man to a rouge that seemed intent on pestering Morrigan.

She truly felt for this man who appeared too scared to get close enough to use his daggers correctly. The mage took advantage of his uncertainty and lit him aflame with a smirk. It took a man a second to recognize the pain, his eyes wide with terror as his whole being was licked by ethereal flames. Terill turned her gaze from the man, not wanting to watch as he burned away, her stomach churning as the man's screams soon silenced.

Alistair had already made quick work of the two warriors attacking him with broad swords. He used his shield effectively and let the force of the men's large blades stagger them before quickly ending their lives. It was hardly a challenge for him or the rest of his companions. The archer seemed to make off into the woods somewhere as the battle seemed lost. He could likely meet a less timely fate as some group of dark spawn takes advantage of his loss and feeds on him in the night. The thought was not something she enjoyed, but it persisted none the less.

"If only dark spawn hordes were as foolish and easy to kill as untrained highwaymen." Morrigan mused.  
"Perhaps Alistair would be of some use to you."

Terill couldn't help but laugh at the comment, making Alistair narrow his eyes in annoyance before mumbling something under his breath as he could not think of a witty comeback. Terill patted Alistair's back to let him know it was all in good fun, but his poisonous glare would not leave Morrigan for some time.

"Again Alistair, I do not have time for you to finish courting the witch of the wilds." Terill teased, leading forward past the makeshift bandit outpost and towards Lothering. "You two will be spending plenty of time together if you truly need more time to woo each other as you have."

Morrigan rolled her eyes, "I would sooner take chantry vows."

Alistair followed closely, "As if speaking them would not make you light aflame."

"By the Creators you two, your bickering served as a distraction for long enough. Let us not forget our mission so you two can fight over the true shade of blue that the sky is." Terill said, starting to notice the tents of fleeing refugees, probably hoping that Lothering would offer more than it could. They walked in silence for a while as they came closer to the town. Terill noted the continual sounds of sobs from both children and adults, presumably morning the loss of homes, families, and friends. She felt guilty for their losses in a way that she could not make sense. She had always been to empathetic to people in need, but this guilt burned in her gut, raising self-doubts and self-defeating ideas. She pushed the thoughts into the back of her head hoping Falcon'Din guided their crossing as easily as possible. She still could feel the gazes upon her, the looks of curiosity of her tattoos and clothing now seemed so accusatory she could not face to look any in the eyes.

Pov change:

Alistair looked over to his companion, seeming to notice a change in her mood and patted her back reassuringly. He was still hurting from the loss of the whole order he thought he could finally call family but found comfort in the companionship of this strange Dalish elf. She talked so often of things, ideas, and people but in such an uncertain way you could never be sure what she really thought. She seemed to think aloud at times but quieted as her mind wandered to dangerous territory. She deflected questions in such a seamless way it could be hours before he realized. After the three nights to Lothering she had finally told him she became a warden due to a taint she gained a few weeks before her joining but avoided answering how it happened.

He did not want to be insensitive to such a recent event but felt the need to understand. Jory and Daveth had not seen dark spawn their entire lives but this young Dalish elf had managed to become tainted in just enough time for Duncan to find her. It was odd, curious really, he had been taught of the maker but believed the Chantry's preaching that he had long ago washed his hands of mankind, yet the story seemed so much like an act of fate.

He almost sighed in relief as he saw the gleaming of Templar armor in the distance and notice, to his amusement, Morrigan bristling at the thought of being so close to these men. The Templar at the gate attempted to "warn them" of the lack of aid to be sought but Terill pushed past him, uninterested in what he had to say.

"What now?" Alistair asked Terill carefully. He was certain Terill would be in quiet a mood with all the Templars so close by and everyone praying to the Maker as of late. Terill has expressed her distaste of the Chantry recently, seeming to equate the institution with all that oppressed elves as well as humans.

Other than her disregard of the Templar, she did not appear to be in poor spirits. "I would like to see if we can assist these people anyway we can as we pass through," letting a certain expression flash across her face that Alistair did not understand. "After losing your homes and being forces into such a chaotic place where no one seems concerned in the slightest of the next person survival…" She tapered off thoughtfully before she could finish the full thought.

"Should we arrest petty thieves and rescue kittens from trees as well? Ah, the order of the Grey Wardens will have such a legacy to live up to after you two." Morgan almost spat from behind them.

Terill simply ignored the comment and did not seek to defend her actions as they accepted missions from the chantry board. Alistair knew it was silly for them to be doing such things but his humanity weighed heavy on him here. He hoped in the least, if they themselves couldn't stop the blight that they could at least save one person who might not have lived otherwise. He knew it was his childish view of chivalry that fueled this hope but he did not really want to remedy it. He feared that if he lost it, he may become as uncaring as Morrigan. That existence seemed almost worse than death to him and it was only partially fueled by their mutual hatred.

They were amazingly efficient as a team at dispatching multiple foes and seemed aware of where the other ones were at all times. Morrigan complained during the first "chore" but stopped bothering to complain when she realized both of them would ignore these. They finished a number of missions in the span of a few hours and headed in the direction of the tavern.

Their team was certainly not ideal, an apathetic apostate, a quirky Dalish girl, and a silly warden who easily deferred leadership and judgment to his younger warden. Alistair felt as though someone was playing a cruel prank of Ferelden for giving these three with such a vital task. Perhaps he was right.


	3. Chapter 3

Terill pushed past the door to survey the poorly lit bar. She was used to dirt but the natural kind that did not cling to your skin. All she could feel is the grease and blood on her skin and it made her feel a kind of grimy that she had never felt. She wanted a bath. She had tried her hardest to keep herself clean in the passing creeks on their travels but she was too hyper-vigilant to tarry to far from the camp long enough to clean more than her face and hair. She assumed that this would be no place to bathe, but all the same she hoped. Her optimism was to ever be her downfall.

Shems were slumped in nearly every available space in the place, already looking as if the blight had won. She was annoyed at their ability to look so defeated before they even tried; it made her want to shake every last one of them. She was probably being insensitive considering most had either lost their homes or were soon about to but she hated the look they had. Her people were outnumbered in a land that hated and feared them but they were always determined. The Dalish carried themselves with an aire of pride that she had come to expect in others. The thought made her feel like just another bitter Dalish but there was no honor in giving up this easily. She shook the annoyance out of her head and headed towards the bartender. Before she could get to the counter she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, turning her around. She was soon face to face with a heavyset man with too much whisky on his breath. The poor sod looked just as desperate as the others but tried to hide behind his position of power. Wrex growled from behind the man and she noticed a flinch in his face before he gained back the courage to speak.

"Well, look what we have here then! I think we have just been blessed." The man yelled over to his friend. She soon recognized their garb that marked them as the men of the regent. _Fantastic. I'm becoming a shem exterminator. _

Before either men could continue with their pointless banter, she began pulling her blades. The sheaths were soft enough they hardly made a sound as she pulled her sharpened daggers from their holders. There was too much cowardice in this whole bar for her to keep herself in check. She felt a hand on her left arm, urging her to replace her dagger back to the sheaths. She kept herself from lashing out at the stranger who so boldly held her arm now. She noticed the chantry robes and almost reconsidered her mercy for this woman. She tried to keep all the nagging thoughts of the chantry and their hypocrisy from prematurely ending this woman's life. She knew there was reason to be bitter but she tried to not let her emotions cause undue pain to others.

"Now gentlemen," the woman started, surveying the drunks as well as her own companions, "surely no blood needs to be spilled in the midst of this blight." Her voice spoke of a light orleseian accent that was certainly pleasant to the ears mixed so subtly her kind voice. "These must be more poor souls seeking refuge of the chantry on their way from the darkspawn." Terill almost chuckled. Even an idiot would consider that, as armed as they were, and with a mabari at that, they were obviously not refugees of any form. She was unsure if the pretty redhead was truly that foolish to assume this or was making a poor attempt to disway these men from acting in a way that will end their lives. Blue eyes met hers, almost pleading her to keep silent. Oddly enough, she did so. She felt like an idiot for this odd attraction to this woman who was most certainly another bigoted idiot, ready to covert her from her heathen ways. Alas, her sense never did catch up with her attraction to misunderstood and poisonous women.

One of the men laughed, "Refugees? Hardly, these are murderers and traitors to the crown. This knife-ears is wanted for many crimes" He pulled his sword, clumsily, probably cursing himself now for the several drinks he had put away. "Now sister, step aside or you will be guilty of aiding such criminals." Even his words sounded clumsy. Terrill almost felt sorry for the poor sod who was almost in no shape to walk, much less take on their company. It was certainly a shem vice to be so unable to hold their liquor and it made them seem even more stupid.

The chantry sister quickly unsheathed the dagger at her side, plunging it in a weak spot on the man's side, turning the blade cruelly before pulling it out and pushing him to the ground. The man would most likely live, the woman seemed intent on avoiding his kidney despite its accessibility.

Terill's eyes were wide in surprise as another of the man's companions lashed out at the woman who deftly avoided his swing and brought her blade across his throat, blood soon staining the yellow robes she wore. The cut was not deep but hit the artery and may kill him. The rest of the men made their way out of the bar, obviously not wanting to meet the fate that their two companions had. As Terill was about to follow them she felt a hand on her shoulder and that pleasant accent telling her to let them go.

She pushed the hand off and regarded the chantry sister accusingly. "Why would you seek to help us where your revered mother would not?" Her eyes flashed over Sten who stared straight ahead, not at all bothered by whatever treatment the chantry had given him. She knew that he would be unaffected but she still sought the comfort of something predictable.

"Should I have turned a blind eye?" The red-head cocked her head to the side curiously, not seeming to be bothered by the tone in Terill's voice. Her words made Terill feel ungrateful, this woman had helped them without any need to and yet she found herself angry at the woman's interference. Terill isn't sure if she would have preferred to kill the whole lot of them and perhaps this is what is motivating her anger. Was she bitter? Was she hurt? She truly hoped it was not the case. In some odd sense of superiority she tried to be as objective about her Dalish nature and their adversity to men. Now that she was truly faced with this discrimination though…

"I'm…. Sorry." Terill acquiesced, "I should not have lashed out at you ungratefully. Thank you for your help." Terill offered her hand in a shake. Shem's seemed to love to touch hands constantly; they shook hands at meetings, shook hands at goodbyes, and seemed to think this gesture meant something besides the redundancy. It did not offend her to offer the hand. The sister seemed sincere and she hoped not to become the cynic that assumed otherwise. The sister took her hand and shook it daintily, smiling all the while. It was a cute smile that did not seem to eager.

"I was certainly my pleasure to help such a _damsel in distress_." Before terill could be offended she noticed the joking nature in her voice. "It was probably silly to try to do so, I will admit. You and your companions seem more than capable but the men have been making an ass of themselves for hours… Besides that, I am Leliana, one of the Lay-sisters of the Chantry." Terill bristled at this reminder.

"I can see." Terill said tersely. "It is nice to meet you Leliana, I am Terill." Terill made a motion to her companions who made for the door, "It has been a pleasure, but we will need to be leaving before any of Logain's men suddenly grow a back-bone and attempt to find us here."

Leliana looked amused, noticing the woman's change of demeanor and the sudden authoritative tone that she took on to order the band of fighters. It was cute, not in a way she meant to be condiecning but Terill, to a trained, or just observant eye, felt very out of her element.

Leliana grabbed Terills sholder yet again, "And I shall accompany you then! Allow me a few moments to collect my things?" There was little actual question in her statements as if she knew she would come along.

"Why would you seek to aid those deemed traitors?" She raised her eyebrow. She noted how quickly she collected strange people. Had anyone in their right mind seen to join them they would surely be driven insane before they reached their first stop.

"The Maker has given me a vision. I know I am to aid you in your work." Leliana said, seeming to completely forget her chantries opinion of the Dalish as well as their current stance on Grey Wardens. Leliana soon corrected herself, "I mean… I'm so sorry for bumbling, I feel as though when I saw you, I had already practiced some grand speak a thousand times." This last line made Terill blush in a sudden manner. "Again, I mean no offence, but I know I must follow you." Leliana offered an unsure smile.

Terill stared at her dumbly, making Leliana shift under her gaze. "You do good work, you will accomplish great things that I would be more than happy to be a small part in. The Maker needs me to come with you. Even if you do not believe in such things, I beg you to at least indulge me even if only from my skill with my blades."

"Your Maker?" Terill felt her hand's clench. "I do not wish to have your gods deciding my fate." She felt her anger rising and she knew she would say something she would soon regret if she continued. Terill held her face in her hand and tried to calm herself. She knew that this woman would be useful and they certainly did need more allies for the tasks they had been given. She needed to be objective and not allow this annoyance potentially doom her cause. She felt odd. She did not feel odd as if she would soon be sick but soon became unsure in a way she was not at all accustomed. "Fine." She huffed angrily, only to hear a grumble from behind her.

"You cannot be serious?!" Morigan asked loudly. "We are taking a chantry wench with us now? Should we hold Sunday Mass and pray for our foe's souls?!" Terill shot her a glance that put a stop to her protests. She must know Terill was no happier about the arrangement then she was but she would not let her opinion make her turn down help they so desperately needed. She felt a form of duty, as did Alistair although they were bound by nothing but honor to uphold it at this point. They could easily slip away somewhere, perhaps to Orlais even and wait for another group of Grey Wardens from a neighboring country to slay the darkspawn. They could become different people, they certainly had the skill to make money as sellswords and body gaurds but the thought had not crossed her mind.

Alistar chuckled in a way that bordered on self-deprecating, "Do you think she won't fit in? An apostate, a Templar, and a Lay-sister all commanded by a Dalish elf? Sounds like the start to a fine joke."

Leliana looked elated by this and started chattering on about this vision of darkness and Terill soon lifted her hand. "Stop. I will allow you to come because it is true that our cause would be lost without capable allies. You have proven your skill to a degree but I will not suffer through continuous talks of your maker. I will try to be objective and not be insensitive of what you believe but I expect the same of you. We travel at a fast pace and we will need the help of all of Ferelden. There is a large chance we may not be successful and any of us could die." Terill paused to regard the woman again whose blue eyes now shown with a resolve. Finally a shem with some damn courage.

Leliana nodded, "I will try to be as sensitive as I can on the matter as well as not being a burden to you or your companions. I only seek to help and I apologize in advance if my beliefs offend you. I do not seek to convert you but as you must understand, two years of my life has been spent in the chantry and perhaps old habits die hard." Morrigan sneered behind them but remained silent, Wrex was regarding the ham a few tables over, Alistair nodded approvingly, and Sten... was just Sten. Leliana seemed truly sincere and for this, Terrill greatly appreciated.

Terill nodded. "Alright, collect your belongings, I will attempt to acquire supplies to last us until we reach the circle and we will meet back at the chantry board."

They were out of Lothering as soon as they had entered and were on their way towards the Circle, much to Morrigan dismay. She prattled on about their inability to act without their chantry leash but all the same, these treaties would be put to use. Despite Morrigan's words, Terill felt sympathy for these men and women, torn from their homes to be taught under the Templars oppressive gaze. In honesty, magic scared her, the potential scared her, and as everyone else, the unknown nature of it terrified her. All the same these mages were given this gift by the creators for some reason or another and she would not hate them or fear them for their destiny.

It would be a must longer trip than she had initially anticipated considering their limited supplies. Much of their time was spent foraging or hunting where it could otherwise be spent covering ground towards their next location. Their slow pace made her feel almost helpless. She was without the guidance of her Keeper, without the comforting numbers of her clan, and lastly, without Tamlen or Merrill.

Although she cursed this long trip, she soon started to become accustomed to her rag-tag team. Alistair proved to be a sympathetic listener and a force of constant comic relief that kept her from pulling her hair out time and time again. She felt as though Alistair was even more naïve and innocent than her which was certainly a feat considering the circumstances. He seemed to have a rather rose-colored view of many things that one may find in a child. He had proven himself prone to black and white thinking but his intentions were still good. Alistair kept a rather guarded hand despite his jests and made him considerably more interesting than the average shem. He did not claim to be more damaged or put upon than anyone despite his continual deflections. He was always joking in a way that seemed to annoy her other companions but could certainly be seen as endearing. He was willing to listen should the others want to speak and was humble in a way she could have hardly expected.

Morrigan was a rather poorly shielded enigma who attempted to be a terse to others as possible in an attempt to stop any questions about herself.. She claimed such superiority but seemed to doubt it herself. She could see in the quick flashes of emotion she displayed which quipping Alistair that she was not as cold as she may have seemed. She certainly grew up with a very darwinistic view of the world and was so afraid she would not be able to survive in it. Terill found herself pondering on what sort of mother Flemeth could have been but the thought turned her stomach. Morrigan warmed up rather quickly to Terill as she found the elf less judgmental about her past and magic use. She still remained guarded but seemed to enjoy, at least on some level, the time spent on watch together.

Sten felt no need to define himself to their companions despite their misunderstandings and it made him all the more admirable. He was certainly different, but not in so much that made him seem inhuman. There was much in his past to regret and despite his nature; he seemed to worry of his place. Despite her pleads he would not elaborate on what seemed to bother him so when he thought they were not looking and appeared angry that she spent so much attention on this matter. He was certainly a proud quinari and kept herself from bothering him more than necessary. Sten followed her with few questions thus far despite her lack of experience. He was always willing to spar when she felt the need and never to such an extent it could harm her.

So far Wrex had proven himself intelligent, understanding, loyal and consistent. She found herself talking to him in elvish about things she could hardly admit to herself. His expressions almost seemed to change in understanding but Terill knew that was probably wishful thinking. Of course she would think the dog that was forced to listen to her prattle on about her worries and dreams was some form of sentient that no one could understand. It was so sickeningly clichéd but yet she felt herself hoping all the same. She found herself gravitating towards the dog under this pretense of understanding despite how idiotic it may be. The dog helped her feel at home in a way and provided companionship that her human companions may not. She wondered if Wrex was some incarnation of her old friend Tamlem and although the Keeper would certainly box her ear for that consideration, it comforted her.

Lastly, there was Leliana. The chantry sister was always in a chipper mood, offering encouragements and anecdotes to her and Alistair when they needed. She seemed to find so much beauty in everything around her despite their situation but it hardly seemed childish naivety. Terill understood the mentality well. When you are at your worst, when you lose everything, you still learn to find suck beauty in just being. Leliana's bright eyes and warm smile always put Terill at ease and she soon felt herself drawn to the woman. She found friends in nearly all her companions but something about Leliana and that nervous flick of her hair when they dove into her past was different from anyone she knew. Her deflections were so seamless and she always seemed to know what to say to avoid telling Terill whatever it was the she is trying so hard to keep a secret. Terill was often so level-headed and cool around everyone. She found most people to be easy reads and was able to get them to say more than they may have with a few well-timed prods. She tried not to be manipulative about it but she was always so curious.

Leliana was different. Leliana made her nervous and unsure. Much of what Terill knew seemed to backfire on her with Leliana. When Leliana wanted to end a conversation all she needed to do was hold Terill's eye contact long enough it made her feel self-conscious and leave. Terill cursed her for this. She was so used to be confident, collected, and in control of her thoughts and actions. Leliana knew exactly what to say and do to catch her off balance. But she was drawn to the bard's interesting tales and good company. She found herself even more confused as she looked forward to watches spent with the unnerving woman.

She laughed as Alistair brought up her attraction to the woman. She knew a lot of things and attraction was certainly not one of them. It was not to say she had never been attracted to another but she knew better than to ever act upon these feelings. She would deny them to herself as long as she could before her unrequited love became too much to bear as it had before. She found the woman to be curious, interesting, and a good friend but Alistair's accusatory gazes were simply undue at the moment.

At the same time, she knew it was foolish how quickly she trusted these people but Terill had always been a little too trusting. She was certainly the sort of person willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt despite prior actions. Many would have considered it cute, most in her clan considered it very dangerous. She had so earnestly wanted to get to know the people that her clan called the Shems but have never been able to. They interested her, their culture, their mannerisms, their obsession over things, their need to touch almost constantly. Her friends had always considered Shem things with heavy distain but she never held those colored views. She had always been far too curious about Shems to write all of them off as frivolous and greedy. She was certain, after enough meetings, that greed seemed to be almost virtuous in the Shems society and it some cases, kept you alive. These perceptions were certainly hypocritical as often Dalish would comment on the Shems ability to so quickly brand them as barbarians when the elves did essentially the same thing.

One night in particular she had trouble sleeping. She had been faced with an oddly realistic dream about Tamlem and her sitting around a campfire far away from her clans members.

Tamlem looked especially agitated this evening. Rather than his kind voice telling ridiculous stories about oversized monsters and silly coincidences, his solemn gaze pieced a hole in Terill that she could not maintain.

"You know." He said, looking at the flickering light of the dying campfire, "What if it doesn't matter?" The usual upbeat mood he held being displaced with such melancholy he was almost unrecognizable. He was hardly ever seen without a smile on his face and it immediately put her on edge.

"How do you mean?" She inquired, hoping this to be the start to some joke.

He turned towards her, eyes without the lively, mischievous glint. "Life? Memories? What if I don't matter?" He looked hollow. Terill had been mildly aware something was amiss from the unnatural light that the fire cast upon the two of them. She followed the light to see it tapered off in such an almost two-dimensional way, it was flat. She was dreaming but she could not stop it.

Her brow furrowed, not understanding the implications of his words. "You know you matter to a lot of people Tam. Maybe even Merrill someday." She almost reached over to ruffle his hair but something about the chill in the air kept her from doing so. She was outside of herself, as if watching this seen as something that may come or had already. She tried to wake up, pinch herself, hold her breath but time still moved in that sluggish rate.

"I matter to people… who may not matter?" his face contorted almost in disgust. "And You!" He yelled accusingly, "You have forget about me and OUR people as these shems came around!" He spat at the last word. This was not Tam, she knew it but the words stung.

"Tam?!... What are you talking about?" The light dimmed and she was genuinely afraid of what Tamlem had to say, even if there was no truth in it. Even if this was a dream.

Tamlem stopped moving, looked over to the dying fire and laughed. It started out as a chortle but grew to something almost ominous in nature. "None of us matter…" He looked over to her with a smirk, his face looking aged, "not even you, Terill, your thoughts of grandeur will not save all of Ferelden." He cupped her face, almost condescendingly, "You poor child, you will never know what I have seen and what your short comings will create." His grip tightened as hair fell from his head, his body suddenly contorting in a way that would be unnatural.

Terill's vision failed her but she managed to hear the last whisper, "and you will lose everything."

Terill was shaken awake at that opportune moment, her eyes awide with fright, only to find leiliana's blue eyes gazing down at her rather than Tam's broken ones. Terill shook her head and realized that she was still in her haphazardly pitched tent. She wishes she hadn't been so lazy when you put hers up but after running across a few dozen dark spawn, she was too tired to care about the slight draft at the time. Now there was a chill in the tent that truly could have been avoided.

"I'm sorry to wake you early…" Leliana stumbled, "I know you aren't on watch for another hour now. I just… I just got a little worried." She avoided Terill's direct gaze. "I am glad you are alright… You are alright?" Leliana looked more flustered than she Terill had ever seen.

Terill nodded her head as she gained her senses back. "I suppose I am now. Thank you for waking me. I should be more used to nightmares by now, shouldn't I?" Terill laughed at herself and noticed Leliana's confused frown. "Grey wardens often get dreams… Unpleasant ones usually."

"Do we not all get dreams?" Leliana inquired, still frowning.

Terill laughed, "I suppose we do but these are different." Terill averted her gaze, "Very different."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, "Well, I lost a bet with Alistair today so I have his watch with you anyways… I mean, not to pry, but if you want someone to talk to about it you can join me by the camp fire a little earlier?" Leliana looked hopeful but soon doubted herself, "I mean, you do not need to feel obligated, and you certainly could use the rest. It was a stupid suggestion wasn't it?" Leliana shot Terill a sheepish grin and made to crawl out of the tent before Terill threw her hand up to stop her.

"Give me five minutes and I will certainly join you. I was hardly going to get any sleep as it was."

"Oh! Alright, it is no hurry however. We should have another few hours before the sun rises." Leliana sounded much happier at having Terill as a watch mate opposed to Morrigan. The two were not as combative as she first imagined them being but there was usually an uncomfortable silence that lay between them. The two were such opposites that all there really was to talk about was their differences.

Leliana crawled out, leaving Terill to stretch, and again, regret her laziness of the night before. It was certainly chilly in these wee hours of the morning so Terill made sure to dress in layers. It would be warmer by the fire but with the wind as it was, she wanted to keep herself as insulated as possible. Terill put on her clothes, armor, and a heavier cloak than she would normally wear and headed out to meet Leliana who had already sent the witch to bed.

Leliana looked up as Terill approached, nodding at the groggy elf who heavily took a seat next to Leliana who was fidgeting. Terill noted the pot of strong smelling elfroot tea next to the camp fire. It appeared to keep Leliana awake but she was not looking forward to the red-heads crash during the afternoon.

"Good morning!" Leliana chimed in a sickeningly cheerful tone. Terill could only groan in reply as she fought the headache she felt coming on and motioned to the pot of tea. Leliana understood the gesture and poured her a cup tea, offering her some of the honey she had in a jar close by. Terill simply sipped her unsweetened tea and pursed her lips, realizing how strong the minstrel had made it but continued to sip.

After some time, with Leliana shifting impatiently she finally decided to break the silence. "So… Are you truly alright?" She asked, looking over to Terill who would not meet her gaze.

Terill shrugged, "Besides feeling like I'm going insane, I am doing fairly well." She smirked.

Leliana looked unphased by her attempt to play off the dream. "I mean, about whatever it was you were dreaming? I know I am prying where I should not but… You were almost contorted when I came in to wake you." She looked over at Terill with pity in her eyes and it bothered Terill greatly. She hated pity, hated that look that made her feel weak but kept her anger from boiling up at the woman.

Terill had been feeling alone since she left her clan. She liked these shems, trusted them more than she should have, but she was so out of her element. She missed Tam, Merrill, and the other Dalish she spent nearly all her waking moments with. Rather than let her ever changing stream of consciousness spew from her mouth as she had with her clan, she kept largely silent, somehow gaining a filter with her human companions. At the same time, she felt the need to talk, the need for a confidant to tell all her worries to tell about the boiling feeling she has whenever she dreams now, how something tears at very being. Wrex was a suitable substitute for only so long. She wanted to tell Leliana, she seemed the most likely to keep the things to herself but Terill was too self-conscious to let the worst of it out. What would this woman think? Would she fear her leadership? She was surly going crazy, even if it was slowly.

Terill realized she had been silent for too long, losing her in her thoughts, her gaze staying on the dying fire. "Thank you for your concern Leliana… It is just more complicated than I can explain. I'd rather get my mind off of it in any case. May we change the subject?"

Leliana looked conflicted, "If you are sure you would not wish to talk of it… What do you want to talk of?" Terill shrugged non-committaly, "Come now warden." Leliana chuckled, "I do not wish to spend a second watch in complete silence. Else I will fall asleep on you." Leliana winked, meaning the last part to be suggestive but it went over the warden's head.

"Alright, alright." Terill conceded. "I suppose we do have some time to pass. Tell me about Orlais. I have spent much of my life in Ferelden, and all of it with the Dailish."

"As you wish." Leliana winked at the elf, this time with no meaning behind the gesture. Leliana told her of her life after her mother's passing, her place in an elderly nobles house, as well as her eventual time spent as a minstrel. Leliana seemed to carefully choose her words during certain topics, but not enough to become too obvious. Terill decided not to pry as Leliana had allowed her the same courtesy but made a note to ask of the topics on a later date. Terill also told Leliana of her life, her friendships in the clan, her limited interactions with Shem, as well as random memories that still brought her joy.

After about an hour of talk a silence broke the chatter. Leliana tentatively asked, "So… He was your mate?" She noticed Terill's look of confusion before clarifying, "Tamlem I mean. You talk of him often, where you together?"

Terill laughed again, "Oh creators no! No, no, no! He was certainly my best friend but was always sweet on Merrill. He was so hopeless though, they were both so completely oblivious." She smiled, "I like to think that, given a few years, they may have gotten over their shyness and married." She tried to keep her thoughts on the happy note rather than focusing on the fact that it could never be true.

"Oh? Did you not have a mate yet? I do find that hard to believe considering how beautiful you are." Leliana stroked her chin in thought, "Or perhaps your heart belonged to some mysterious wanderer, oh or a man promised to another!"

Terill shoved her playfully before she could continue her ridiculous train of thought. "Hardly! I was a late bloomer and even when I did become interested in romance… People were less susceptible to it." Terill scratched the back of her neck nervously.

"How do you mean?" Leliana cutely cocked her head to the side.

Terill sighed, "Welllll… I actually told the Keeper first… It isn't unheard of but the Dailish are not very… diverse…"

Leliana laughed again, "You are dancing around the question Terill!"

"I know! I know! I was... well I am… not interested in the sort of coupling that could produce children…" Terill looked away, blushing furiously.

"So you are interested in women?" Leliana asked bluntly.

Terill did not look back at the woman's gaze for fear of disgust. "…Yes…" She answered reluctantly.

She heard an even more jovial laugh coming from the minstrel and felt her hair ruffled. "You are so darling warden. Blushing over something like this! Feller of hundreds of dark spawn and blushes like a child so easily!" She smiled widely, letting her fondness for the younger woman edge into her voice.

Terill glared at her slightly, "Okay now, Feller of hundreds of darkspawn and a very loud bard if you do not leave me alone!"

"Awwwww, I dare you to try." Leliana winked at her. "I promise I will stop teasing, it just makes me feel better for how embarrassed I was when I woke you up. Now we both get to appear the easily flustered damsel."

"Fair enough." Terill agreed, "Now tell me more of these Orlesian perfumes. They seem so silly to me."

Terill and Leliana spent the rest of their watch talking of inconsequential things, laughing at each other, and comparing knowledge of constellations. It seemed easier than it had been before. Terill's mind did not wander to her troubles, her nightmares, the state of the ending world and focused solely on getting to know the woman next to her. Terill had certainly been attracted to the woman before and now felt it forming into a very inconvenient crush. She cursed herself for letting her mind be so clouded at a time like this but in a way, it kept her sane. Leliana was certainly far past jittery by the time the sun peaked and the whole band set out for another long day before the dew on the leaves around them settled.


End file.
